Chapter 2 - THE SHADOW ON THE STAIRS
Sebastian Stellan did not lower his guard. His massive frame remained positioned firmly between his trembling daughter and the grand, sweeping staircase of the foyer. The two bleeding mercenaries on the marble floor groaned, but Sebastian’s icy blue eyes were locked on the darkness of the second-floor landing.
He knew that silhouette. He had known it his entire life.
"You can step into the light, Victoria," Sebastian’s voice boomed, rattling the crystal ornaments on the towering Christmas tree. "Or I can drag you into it."
Slowly, the elegant, sharp-featured face of his stepmother emerged from the shadows. Victoria Stellan was dressed impeccably in a tailored emerald suit, a string of flawless pearls resting against her collarbone. She looked down at the carnage in her foyer with the casual distaste of someone noticing a stain on the rug.
"There is no need for theatrics, Sebastian," Victoria said smoothly, descending the stairs with agonizing grace. "Those two were simply… overzealous private security. They were supposed to escort Lily to her room so the adults could discuss business."
"They were hunting her," Sebastian growled. He knelt, wrapping his heavy cashmere coat around Lily’s shivering shoulders. "And my daughter just showed me a photograph of a woman who has been dead for eleven years."
Victoria’s composed mask slipped. Just for a fraction of a second, her jaw tightened. "Children have vivid imaginations. Let the nanny take her."
"No one touches her," Sebastian snapped. He stood, his massive hand gently resting on Lily’s blonde head. He held up the tarnished silver key and the scorched photograph. "Genevieve is dead. I put her in the ground myself. So you are going to tell me why a picture of my sister, taken this year, is in this house."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Victoria lied, her eyes darting nervously toward the front door.
It was a subtle movement, but Sebastian caught it. He looked back at the unconscious woman in the evening gown on the floor. Her manicured hand was twitching. Beneath her torn sleeve, an intricate tattoo of a black orchid was visible on her wrist.
Sebastian’s blood ran cold. The Black Orchid was a syndicate of high-end fixers. They didn't work for Victoria. They worked for the people Victoria owed money to.
"They weren't here for Lily," Sebastian realized aloud, the pieces violently snapping into place. He looked at the tarnished key in his hand. The crest engraved on the bow wasn't the Stellan family crest. It was the emblem of the old hunting lodge on the edge of the property. "They were trying to take this key from her. They were trying to stop her from showing me."
Victoria gripped the banister, her knuckles white. "Sebastian, don't go to the lodge. Please. If you open that door, you destroy this entire family."
Sebastian ignored her, scooping Lily into his arms and whistling for his bodyguards. "Watch her," he ordered, pointing at Victoria.
He marched out into the freezing December snow, carrying his daughter toward the darkened woods. When he finally reached the dilapidated stone hunting lodge, he used the silver key on the heavy iron basement door. It groaned open, revealing a stairwell bathed in warm, flickering light.
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Sebastian descended, his heart hammering against his ribs. He expected a dungeon. He expected a hostage. Instead, he stepped into a perfectly preserved, climate-controlled nursery.
And resting in the center of the room, sitting atop an empty white crib, was a freshly worn, blood-stained velvet coat.
